


I will find you in my dreams, there waiting for me

by ChesapeakeStripper



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will Graham, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hickeys, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Top Hannibal Lecter, Wendigo, Will eventually finds out, eventually, kind of, monster fucking, strange marks left upon Will when he is disassociated, you should know by now I don't tag well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChesapeakeStripper/pseuds/ChesapeakeStripper
Summary: Will wakes from his disassociative state with a hickey upon his neck, unsure of where it has come from, Takes off from S1 ep9 Trou Nomad
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my VERY first return to fic, so bear with me at the start it heats up and chapters 2 and 3 are much better in my opinion. Kudo's and ideas are appreciated <3

It’s difficult for Will to gauge when he started to slowly lose his mind. When he couldn’t keep track or account for his actions or movements throughout the day. The first time he had been truly aware was when he blinked and was in Hannibal’s waiting room instead of a crime scene, staring at the door that opened to reveal the man instead of the totem pole of bodies.

He remembers perfectly how he had felt in that moment, the panic that was written on his face, how his breath had stuttered, his heart skipping a beat before thundering to life and causing blood to rush up to his ears. But most of all, he remembers the look of concern that had travelled across Hannibal’s face for a brief moment before it had been schooled away into a neutral expression. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time the doctor had seen a patient not be aware of his surroundings, watching the crushing sense of dread they felt when their life was being turned upside down, against their will, and they were only coming to that sad realisation in that moment. But it was Will’s first time and it hit him hard, feeling the rug was being pulled out from under his feet. He was used to being considered ‘abnormal’, different, even mad by Freddie Lounds articles. But now he felt unsure himself, and it was unnerving. 

At that moment Will had wondered if his unconventional friendship with Hannibal would end, instead being replaced with psychiatrist and patient, on the record and being treated for mental illness, prescribed medications that would dull his senses. Maybe even something that could finally help him to sleep. 

It had to be neurological, even as Hannibal had stood there and discussed the possibilities of what had caused the disassociation (mental illness, dementia) he felt more convinced he needed a brain scan. It could have been a stroke, a brain tumour like the angel maker, some kind of disease, something treatable that he could recover from. 

Mental illness felt wrong to him, but then he’d always been different from other people, thought differently, saw the world differently due to the ability to see other people’s perspectives from his empathy. Did he truly understand himself though? 

Even as the thought came up, part of him screamed yes while another whispered no. The most worrying part of it was that both voices were his own, yet he didn’t know which one to believe.

When he finally stepped out of the office, he felt even more torn and unsure of himself than before he had entered. He looked back to see Hannibal still inside, probably making notes about their impromptu session. He sighed as he went to the car, sitting in the driver seat, pulling off his scarf and tossing it aside as his hands came up to grip the steering wheel. 

There was a deep breath as he closed his eyes, performing his grounding exercise as he tried in what felt like vain to regain some control of his life. “My name is Will Graham, it’s 2:34 pm, and I’m in Baltimore Maryland.”

Upon opening his eyes, he looked into the mirror. Just above his collar bone on his neck, he noticed the mark. He leaned forward in his seat, dragging himself closer to the rearview mirror to look at the bright red patch of skin that stood out like a stoplight, realising on closer inspection what it was.  Suction ecchymoses, or simply,  a hickey. 

The  petechiae was in the  centre, bright red as though it was recent, the livid suck point that he had taught his own students about, what to look out for in rape cases and sexual assaults. It stood out to him now, like a slap to the face, soft flecks of purple cross-hatched with the red. It was bright enough, that with time, it would fade to a deep bruise. 

Fingers came up to touch it, a small his as pain blossomed in the area, it didn’t deter him from running fingers over the edges to feel the indents of teeth. Whoever had given him the mark seemed to latch on, clamping down enough to make sure a mark was left behind. 

“Just great,” Will muttered to himself as he tore his eyes away from the mirror. Taking out his phone, he flicked through messages, phone calls and his contacts list. There was nothing new, so whoever had left the mark, whoever had kissed him had likely been a one time deal and left.

It would only have been about two hours since the initial person created the bruise, it wasn’t wet and he doubts Hannibal could have had time to leave a mark considering Will had been in his waiting room. His mind reeled trying to explain the situation, where it could have happened and who could have left such a mark. But everything drew a blank, and that was perhaps even more terrifying, not knowing.

He huffed, a shake of his head, thinking to himself whoever had left the mark had probably been annoyed he wasn’t as receptive. Instead of thinking on it further, he turned the car over and started to make his way home. 

-

It had been several days since the first incidence of his loss of time. The hickey that had been on his neck had faded to a dusty yellow on his skin. 

He had managed to hide in part thanks to the weather, the cold chill of the air even in his classroom never made anyone look at his scarf or wonder why he chose to wear it indoors. 

The only person who did give him a glance one time had been Hannibal when he had offered to hang it up at the beginning of their session, having already taken his coat. 

Will had shrugged his shoulders up, burrowing further into the scarf as he gave a feeble “It’s cold,” to the man. He had regretted it halfway through their session though, figuring Hannibal had turned up the heat in the office for him, being ever so accommodating to Will’s needs. 

Naturally, the sweat had started to accumulate on his brow, which gave him away and he was forced to remove the scarf. 

Maroon eyes had dropped for a fraction of a second to look at the mark before they met his own eyes again, Will was quick to look at something behind Hannibal instead, but he should have known better. The action would surely register with Hannibal as a deflection, and indeed he was right.

“It seems these killers are not the only ones that leave a lingering presence on you.” There’s a faint smirk on Hannibal’s lips as Will sighs and looks down, picking at a stray dog hair that is on his pants. 

“Is my personal life now that interesting to you, Dr Lecter?” It would be because this is the mark of someone who got close enough to touch Will, something that many people have tried and failed to do. Will is sure that Hannibal is well aware that he does not let people get close, doesn’t form connections to those near him. 

Alana has been the only one to actually touch him recently, well someone that he reached out to and kissed, and even she pulled away, telling him a few days later she felt he was unstable. It wasn’t exactly a loss though, Will knows that deep down he would end up resenting her in some way if they actually had a relationship, she would always be either studying him or trying to fix him. 

“For a man who normally shies away from intimacy, yes.” Hannibal remarks, a knowing smile in place. 

“Intimacy would require a connection, not necessarily just physical.” As Will spoke, he felt the heat building in his cheeks, knew there was a dusting of pink on them, betraying the calm demeanour he was trying to project. But what he didn’t care to admit, even to himself was the slight elation he felt at being marked, at having others see that someone actually liked him enough to claim a piece of him. 

There were moments where those thoughts crossed his mind, then his self-loathing crushed them just as quickly. His past was ever so helpful in providing memories on how it could not possibly be true, and how he had been betrayed before. 

Hannibal considers him for a moment. “Was this another clutch for stability?” Like Alana hangs in the air, unspoken. But Will knows. 

“Perhaps more a brief moment of circumstance, a moment that ended just as fast as it had begun.” Will deflects, he doesn’t want to tell Hannibal that he has no recollection of who left the mark. 

Even as he tries to reconstruct what happened, all he sees is a shadow suspended on dust. He shakes his own head to dispel the thought, standing as he moves around the room instead. 

Hears the sound of fabric rustling, knows Hannibal has moved in his seat to keep an ever-watchful eye on him as he lets fingers trail along the doctor’s desk, noting the straight lines of the pens and pencils, the neatly stacked books. Everything in its place, everything in order, so unlike Will’s own life.

“You don’t consider yourself worthy of someone’s undivided attention, yet you continue our standing appointments knowing you have mine.” Hannibal remarks.

Will knows he has always had Hannibal’s attention during their conversations, ones that focus solely on him, and his mental state. “I thought these sessions were so that Jack could sleep easier at night.” What would he give for a few hours of undisturbed sleep himself?

“We are simply having conversations, yes.” Hannibal clarifies in some sense. 

It doesn’t feel like a conversation at the moment, more a dissection of Will’s thoughts and feelings regarding someone leaving a simple hickey on his skin. It’s not so unusual for two consenting adults to leave marks on one another or a sexual assault victim. Yet, he doesn’t feel like a victim. 

He looks down at his own watch and see’s it’s 8:30 pm already, letting out a sigh of relief as he reaches the end of their hour. He fixes his features to what he can only hope to be a polite smile as he looks to Hannibal. “This is likely one of the few sessions that I could use a glass of wine afterwards.”

Truly, his mind feels as though it’s buzzing. There are more thoughts rattling around than when he had set foot into the office. Hannibal stands with a certain grace, casually walking over to the cabinet that houses his likely small collection of wines for his office. There is a faint pop of a cork, the clink of glasses as Hannibal returns holding them, passing one to Will.

“A chardonnay of sorts. A fresh, lively, crisp taste, given the shiraz would not have had time to breathe.” 

Will’s fingers close around the stem, watching the pale straw liquid flow easily into his glass, filling a third of it before Hannibal pour the same amount into his own glass. The aroma of apples and lemons greets Will as he brings it closer to his lips. It’s a distinct smell, one he is coming to enjoy the more time he spends in Hannibal’s company and being introduced to the different variety of wines. As he takes a sip, he relishes the flavour on his tongue for a moment, the only thing missing was the pleasant burn down his thought that normally came from whiskey.

“Perhaps next time.” Will smiles into his glass, thinking to himself that he would rather buy a more expensive bottle of whiskey to share instead.

-

It’s cold.

The snow bites at his bare feet as Will stands in the middle of the field, senses coming back to him as he takes in his surroundings. There is a deep breath as he turns around, eyes falling to the familiar tree in his garden, and his house behind it. 

The front door is wide open, all the lights inside the house are dark. Where normally he could see his house as being a well lit safe haven on roiling seas, there is now blackness, waves crashing against his sides as they try to pull him down to the dark rocky bottoms.

“My name is Will Graham,” It’s blurted out as he tries to mentally climb his way back to the surface before his lungs fill with water and pull him back down. He shakes as he closes his eyes. “I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia.” Opening them he looks to his left wrist. “Shit.”

There’s no watch there, no example of what time it is or how much he has lost, even though it must be sleepwalking. But what does stand out is the bruise that seems to wring around his wrist just like the wristband on a watch would. Fingers brush over the mark, gently touching as he uses the pain to ground him instead. 

Suddenly his eyes are up, darting around his surroundings, looking for whoever left the mark. He knows it’s fresh, it’s still burning slightly, probably from a grip that twisted at the end, twisted so a mark would stay.

His thoughts are interrupted as a shiver runs through his body, arms coming up to his sides as they cross over his chest and rub his arms. Moving quickly as he hops slightly from the snow back towards his house, slamming the door when he steps inside. He’s quick up the stairs, straight into the bathroom as he rips off the cotton shirt and looks in the mirror. 

Half-moon crescents are indented on his chest, just above his heart. Not deep enough to draw blood, but enough pressure was applied to leave marks. It wasn’t the only one left though. There is another hickey, well hickeys plural because there are more than last time. 

The first rests on his collar bone, the taut skin covering the bone makes it an angry shade of red, and it shines in the light slightly, still wet from whoever left it on him. 

The other hickey sits next to the original one, a vibrant mark next to a residual mark, the start of a chain that makes Will shiver for reasons that don’t relate to how cold he feels. And that’s when it finally hits home, as he looks down to his own cock and realises he’s half hard.

“Shit!” He whispers, rushing through the house and into the bathroom. Hands grab onto the taps for the shower, turning them quickly as he strips his boxers and steps under the cold water. It cascades over him as he tilts his head up into the stream, feeling it start to warm as he places his hands on the wall and groans. Half with want and desire, the other mortification at what is happening to him and that he is aroused by what is happening.

There’s a mental effort to try and will away his semi hardness, his left fist bangs against the wall as his mind draws a blank on what to think. But the pain that he feels radiating through his wrist goes straight to his cock. It fills more as Will exhales, giving up quickly and reaching down to let his fingers curl around his shaft. 

His eyes flutter as his mind takes him to a moment he’s not sure exists, where the shadowy man before him smiles, canines bared before he leans in to suckle at his collar bone. He gasps as his own hand tightens around himself for a moment before it moves to stroke, thumb running over the slit as he feels it lift and curve towards his belly, ass clenching as the first moments of orgasm start to approach.

_ Black hands grab his wrist, pulling him forward. Not that it’s difficult, his body gives way and moves as one with the shadow before him, bearing his neck as he watches it smile before leaning down and kissing him slowly.  _

_ He can feel the brush of teeth, the rough texture of a tongue running over his carotid artery. It pauses there for a moment, inhaling greedily through its nose before sucking on the flesh, a faint nip of teeth as Will lets out a moan and feels his body jerk towards the shadow. Pre-cum drips from his cock onto his palm, feeling it slide over his tip and shaft, bringing a new heat and friction. _

_ A guttural moan escapes his lips, mouth parted as he gasps for air like a fish being pulled from the ocean. Fingers pierce into his chest as he jerks up, the shadowy figure before him gaining mass, nails that dig into his skin, lips that touch him so tenderly while his tongue laps at his skin like he is the most decadent fruit it has tasted. Slowly the shadowy mass before him morphs, gaining skin, though still tainted black as it takes on the shape of a man that looks starved. What he doesn’t expect is the antlers that start to protrude from what he now considers more creature than man.  _

_ Feeling a huff of air over his wet skin, he’s drawn back to the moment of dealing the creature now nip at his chest, twisting his own hand on his cock focused near the tip as his balls lift, ass clenching as his hips jut forward and release following.  _

Opening his eyes, he sees the splatter against the bath below, the water hitting his release and washing it away. But the water doesn’t cleanse him of the ecstasy he feels from it, doesn’t hide his heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath. Fingers gently come up to touch the new mark on his neck.

Anger and disgust rise at his own actions, and that of whoever left the mark upon him. He shuts the shower off grabbing the towel, rubbing himself down harshly as he then walks back to his living room. Looking out the window as some of the dogs casual glance up at him, only Buster moving forward to come over and stand up, front paws resting on Will’s lower leg. 

Looking down, his features soften slightly. “You’d tell me if someone came here, wouldn’t you.”

Buster simply barks at him, wags his tail before he moves back to his bed, curling up and chewing on something. It’s probably a toy, or a leftover piece of food from earlier. He doesn’t think about it as he curls up into his own bed, he stares at his pack as he drifts. 

As his mind slips into the darkness, he feels the sensation he is not alone anymore in his dreams. Before him is complete darkness, one that breathes in time with him and envelopes him like a warm blanket. He doesn’t see the creature to begin with, more senses his presence in the abyss before him.

He simply stares at it for a while, watching as the creature finally begins to reveal itself to him, only through a faint smile that begins to slowly widen.

A smile that Will, eventually, starts to return.


	2. Chapter 2

Normally he dreams of blood and bodies, the brutal murders of the killers he has profiled. Truthfully his own subconscious mind must truly hate him or not want him to sleep with what it normally projects. It’s plagued him long enough that he doesn’t even stop to try and process his thoughts about it anymore. If he didn’t wake up sweating or shaking at times, he would almost call the feeling mundane. 

_ As he stands in his dream now though, looking into the abyss again as he feels the darkness breathe around him, feels the hot gust of warm breath on the back of his neck. He can smell the faint trickle of blood as he listens to the creature move. For a faint second, he wonders if it’s his own blood that he smells on the creature’s breath.  _

_ Slowly the creature reveals itself in front of him, sharp white canines standing out against the blackness before finally, for the first time opening its eyes that match the colour of its teeth. _

_ The predatory gaze it gives him is not that of a killer, he can see the desire in the creature’s features of what it wants to do him, and he shivers in pleasure. It stalks forward, slowly as it’s gaze keeps him pinned in place, he licks his lips and follows the creature’s movements until it looms above him.  _

_ Their height difference is not vast, it crouches to come closer to him, a hand reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind his ear with a long pointed nail that is more like a talon before it manoeuvres around his skull to cradle the back of his head and pull him forward. _

_ For the very first time, it smiles openly at him, so close to his face as it blinks languidly, almost seductively.  _

_ As it comes closer, closing the space between them, aiming for his lips, the creature whispers.  _

**_“You don’t fear my darkness.”_ **

_ “No.” He whispers back, eyes staring into the pearly whites that are now inches from his own. There is such devotion in them that he aches to touch the creature before him.  _

_ Instead he closes the gap, initiating the kiss. Soft lips press against his own as the hand at the back of his head grips tighter to pull him forward. Then the creature’s lip smile, teeth brushing against his own lips as it snarls, and WIll just lets out a shuddering breath as he feels another hand reach down to cup his ass and pull him closer again. _

_ A shuddering moan leaves his body, sucked out by the creature as it continues the kiss. His hands reach out, touching skin and feeling how taut it is over the bones, as though the creature is starving.  _

_ As it purrs against his lips, he feels it’s chest vibrate before the gentle thud of heart surprises him, he wasn’t sure it even had one to begin with. But it’s there, growing stronger with each passionate touch. _

_ It’s easy to let go, to let the creature’s hands move his body, feeling it’s nails bite into his ass to drag him closer. He sighs, feeling lips part from his own, the brush of teeth over his jawline, then slowly moving down his neck. A tongue presses to his pulse point as he lets out a groan.  _

_ Under Will’s own fingers he can feel the taut skin of the creature’s chest filling out slightly, and when teeth sink into his neck and puncture his skin, he understands that it’s feeding from him.  _

_ But he doesn’t shy away, no, he stays and lets it bite into his neck, lap at his blood as both hands keep him held tight and close. The creature moves it’s leg, thigh lifting to rub against Will’s slowly filling cock. Will’s hips jut forward into the thigh, rubbing against it, the friction not only warming his cock but stimulating his arousal more as he moans with pleasure.  _

_ That’s when he feels the creature’s chest fill out slightly again, understanding it’s not feeding from his blood, but his pleasure. Drinking it down greedily, though given how skeletal it was, he understands how starved it is. That it probably hasn’t had someone like him before. Someone who can see what the creature is and accept it. _

_ The hand from the back of his head leaves, travelling down to his chest, it’s elongated nails are sharp as it traces down his sternum.  _

_ The sharp edge of the nail is like a scalpel, opening the flesh before hands reach into Will’s rib cage and a deafening crack is heard as it breaks it open. Hands dive in, going for Will’s heart.  _

_ They wrap around the organ, holding the beating muscle as it contracts wildly and all Will can do is moan in ecstasy as it is torn from his body. _

_ Those long bony fingers hold the heart with such delicacy before him, lifting it up to his own lips as the creature’s head lifts to meet his gaze, pearly white stare into his. It smiles before him as it takes the organ, fingers closing around it as it still beats, blood trickling from the veins and arteries. _

**_“Every heart sings a song.”_ ** _ The creature whispers, bringing the organ closer to its own lips. _

_ “Incomplete, until another heart whispers back.” Will smiles devilish, feeling the creature's own heart stutter, before quickening in its own pace.  _

**_“Clever boy.”_ **

_ The laugh that leaves Will is light, carefree. It certainly must be a dream for him to openly laugh like this. He doesn’t care as he watches the creature bring his heart to its mouth, watches its teeth sink into the beating organ, the fingers remain closed around it as teeth tear at the muscle, pulling it apart slowly as it chews on it before finally swallowing.  _

_ He knows his heart is being savoured, he can see the narrowing of the creature’s eyes as it continues to devour his organ before it finally finishes, smiling at him with his own flesh between its teeth.  _

_ He licks his own lips as he focuses on the blood dripping from the creature’s before him, leaning in as he lets his tongue dart out to taste the blood. The metallic taste bursts over his tongue, vibrant and sharp as the creature lets his own tongue slip inside, running over his teeth.  _

_ There are strips of his own heart on his mouth now, he swallows them as he continues the kiss, head tilted back just so he can feel the tongue against the roof of his mouth as it deepens the kiss. _

The sudden feeling of gasping for air makes him jolt up in bed, panting heavily as he looks wildly around his living room. Sweat clings to his skin as the chill of the room nips at him.

Throwing the cover back, he looks down, seeing his cock jutting against his briefs, a small wet spot on the front that’s too slimey to be sweat. 

There is a grumble that leaves Will as a hand runs down his face, panting heavily still as he turns to stare up at the ceiling and reaches down. 

-

When the door of Hannibal’s office opens and Hannibal tilts his head and frowns slightly before greeting Will, he knows he must look like shit. Standing from the chair he makes his way in while giving a brief greeting in return, as he hears the door shut, he looks back to Hannibal, watching him go to the cabinet he knows he keeps the wine in. 

“Got anything stronger?” There’s a sigh at the end as he comes to finally lean against Hannibal’s desk in the centre of the room. 

It earns him a questioning look before Hannibal sets the wine glass down and grabs a decanter and two tumblers instead, bringing them over and handing one to Will, fingers briefly touching. “A scotch perhaps. I’m afraid I don’t have a whiskey on hand, next time.” 

There’s a smile at the end that makes Will return it before looking down to the glass, holding it out as Hannibal pours the drink. 

“You seem tired, still having trouble sleeping?” Hannibal sets the decanter down, leaning against the desk as Will rotates the tumbler in his hand for a moment before drowning half the contents in one motion. 

“Having trouble staying in my own bed.” Setting the glass to the side, he brings a hand up to his face, rubbing temples before he chances a glance at Hannibal, noting the crinkling in his eyes. “Sleepwalking, nothing to do with-” Cutting himself off, he waves his free hand in the air before sighing and taking another sip of the scotch, thankful for the pleasant heat it provides. 

“Where have you been sleepwalking?” Hannibal picks up the decanter, smiling as Will holds his glass out readily and allows him to fill it, catching sight of the bruise left on his wrist. 

“Managed to wake up in my front yard yesterday, at least it wasn’t halfway down the main road.” Again goes unsaid. It’s too late to move his hand, he can see Hannibal’s attentive eyes on the bruise on his wrist, watches him lick his lips as Hannibal carefully considers his next words. 

Will readies himself for the blow, but instead of receiving one, he almost jumps in surprise when Hannibal takes his wrist and peels back the sleeve to look at it, touching it gently. “Another mark, you seem to be gaining quite the collection.”

“Got the dog lead wrapped around my wrist, they took off chasing a squirrel, pulled it pretty tight.” He tries to shrug, looking away, but Hannibal keeps his hand there, stroking over the pulse point. 

“Must have been one of the larger dogs to leave a bruise like this."

Will feels Hannibal drop his hand, taking it back as he looks down at the mark. There is no need to look at Hannibal to see his reaction, his tone said enough, the man knows he is lying. 

Despite this though, Will feels his wrist still tingle with the ghost touch, heat evaporating now as he misses the feel of Hannibal’s hands upon him. Instead of thinking more he stands, moving away and trying to put distance between them. “They can be boisterous.” 

“I’m surprised you walk them around your property with leads.” 

Because of course, Hannibal isn’t going to let him get away with a lie, he digs deeper, peeling away the layers till he gets to the truth Will doesn’t even want to admit to himself. 

“Yeah, well-” Taking another sip of the scotch, he moves towards the front of the room, looks to the windows and watches headlights of a car outside drive by. Stopping as he lets fingers trail through the curtain he sighs. “You can drop the act… I woke up in my front yard, found the mark on my wrist.” He doesn’t mention the new hickey on his neck, but Hannibal knows of the last one. 

“The pattern of the bruise-”

“Is made by someone, who that someone is I’d like to know. Unless I’m doing it while I sleepwalk.” Turning, he walks forward, sitting in the chair as he watches Hannibal move and take the one opposite. 

“Or disassociated.” Comes the casual reply as Hannibal crosses one leg over the other. “Have you given any thought to stepping back from your work in the field?”

Swirling the last of the contents in his glass, Will looks up before he drowns the last and sets the glass aside, leaning forward as he lets a hand run down his face. “Haven’t had a new case in the last few days and we already wrapped up the last one. This is kind of taking a break.”

He watches Hannibal tilt his head, contemplating for a moment before he leaves his seat, making his way over to the desk and picking up a leather notebook, coming back as he opens it to a fresh page and hands him a pen. “I’d like you to draw a clock for me.”

“Another grounding exercise?” Still, he takes the notebook and the pen, fingers briefly touching again as he looks down at the paper. 

“A reminder, a reality for you to hold onto. Small hand indicating the hour, large hand the minute drawn on a numbered clock face.” 

The glass is taken from the table as Hannibal moves away, Will almost has a desire to ask for another serving of the scotch, but it wouldn’t be wise when he has to drive back. 

Bringing the pen to paper, he draws as asked, holding it out for Hannibal as he comes back to collect it. Hannibal takes the notebook, looking at it for a moment before closing it and setting it to the side before he holds a hand out in front of him, palm up and waiting. 

“May I examine your wrist again?”

Looking the other way, Will brings his hand up, letting Hannibal look and turn it in the light as he flexes his fingers. “Does it hurt?”

Shaking his head, he chances a glance back, watching Hannibal study his wrist as he rotates his hand. “Concerned I’ve fractured it?”

“A possibility, if you had been sleepwalking and managed to have it stuck in something, it could explain the bruise. Best to check for any other injuries.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get a x-ray?” He knows Hannibal was a surgeon, has likely seen his fair share of broken bones and fractures, while he doesn’t feel pain from the motions, it’s nice to have someone be concerned about him while not looking at him like he is broken or a puzzle. But the feeling of Hannibal’s fingers on his wrist is pleasant, there is a smoothness to them while also finding slight callouses on the palms of his hand, likely from his drawing, or cooking.

“In an assessment for fractures, an x-ray would suffice. Physical examination can reveal any sprains or strains, but you don’t appear to be in any pain.” Hannibal’s look directly into Will’s eyes for a moment before he lets his wrist go and heads back to his chair.

Taking his wrist, he gently massages it and wishes Hannibal had kept going. “There’s nothing I could have hooked my wrist on, it wasn’t left by my watch.” The watch was inside on his bedside table, the bites on his neck and chest alert him to the fact someone was at his place. “I’ve probably done it to myself when I was sleepwalking.” 

“Are you repeating your belief for my benefit or your own?” Hannibal tilts his head slightly. 

Looking away, he just nods, hoping Hannibal takes it as a sign to move on, because he knows he’s only saying it for Hannibal’s benefit. 

He knows someone is leaving the marks upon him, he can’t exactly bite his own chest or neck to leave hickeys, who is doing it is another question entirely. When he looks back, Hannibal is still waiting for an answer and so he lets out a sigh. 

“I live in the middle of nowhere, why would someone drive all that way to leave a bruise on my wrist?” 

-

There are currently only two active investigations Will is working, not that he is making much headway on catching the Copycat killer or the Chesapeake Ripper. There both elusive, sadistic in their own ways, though the Ripper has a certain flair, perhaps the Copycat was influenced by it and the scene he gift wrapped for Will. 

_ Standing in the field, Cassie Boyle’s body stands out under the starry night sky, the moon reflects on her pale skin as Will steps up closer and peers into the open chest cavity. He expects to see nothing, or viscera, what you normally find in a human body that has been opened and laid bare. He didn’t expect to see her heart, watching it slowly beat as it pumps blood through her lifeless body. _

_ It strikes him as odd when he moves around the body, hands coming out to touch. Lungs suddenly grow back in Cassie’’s body, the speed of which they form and take shape make Will tilt his head and lean in closer, they rise and fall as they breathe their last breaths. Moving around to look down at her body, he stands in front of the stag's head, hand delicately coming to cup Cassie’s cheek as he strokes a thumb against the cold lifeless flesh. _

_ “Where did all this killer’s love go?” It’s not a question for Garret Jacob Hobbs, it’s a strange occurrence to show up at a recreation of another serial killer’s work, only to find all the details turned on their head. The Minnesota Shrike loved his girls, this killer considered Cassie as swine. _

_ Taking a moment, he considers the scene again, it feels different to his other reconstructions, there is something about the display that piques his interest, draws his attention as it tries to convey something. It’s something he hasn’t felt before in his dreams. _

_ What that something is he hasn’t figured out yet. But where he normally recreates these scenes, he is solitary, alone in the darkness as he wonders through and relives each moment that he can. This time though, he can feel the creature behind him, he hears nothing, not even feeling the darkness it shrouds itself in breathing around him.  _

_ The silence is deadly. _

_ Will feels it’s presence and when it steps closer. Then finally, the silence is broken as it inhales, nose pressing near the back of his neck, tickling his hair before it breathes out again. The hot breath on the back of his neck that makes his knees feel weak, Will ignores the feeling as he lets out a sigh. _

_ “Why can’t I see you?” He says aloud, hand moving away from Cassie’s cheek as he lets fingers stroke over the antlers she is impaled on. The statement is not for the creature, but the killer that eludes him. _

_ “You see what is invisible to others.” The creature speaks, voice deeper and more pronounced than what it has used before. It’s not as hoarse as it once was, it’s become more accentuated in its tone, more human.  _

_ Shaking his head, Will leans forward over Cassie’s body, looking down as the lungs continue to expand in a recreation of breathing, of sustaining life that is not possible. “Why can’t I see him, it’s just like the Ripper. I can’t see them!” _

_ Will’s hands dive into Cassie’s Boyle’s open torso, reaching for the lungs, a knife appearing in his hand suddenly before he cuts the trachea first, watching the blood spurt from the wound and coat his hands before it all stops, the trachea mending itself and the knife turning into a scalpel. Will cuts again, feeling the ease of how the blade slices through the thick membrane and cartilage, he traces the scalpel around the lungs before pulling them free and holding them up.  _

_ “It’s not like the other killers.” The lungs continue to breathe, despite giving no life to anything but themselves. “Why did they take the trophies?” _

_ “Why do you consider them trophies?” The creature whispers in Will’s ear before he feels the hot rough tongue lick down the shell of his ear, pointed teeth nipping the lobe as a hand snakes it’s way around Will’s waist.  _

_ Turning slowly as he breaks free from the creature’s light hold, lungs still in Will’s hand, he lifts them, an offering to the creature before him, watching it smile. The whites of its eyes show nothing, but Will can see the amusement when they squint slightly.  _

_ The creature is still black as midnight, white eyes and teeth to match, but its form is becoming even more human now, it’s antlers have grown even more impressive with more points than Will remembers.  _

_ Long black slender fingers come out, touching the organs gently before the sharp nails dig into the flesh, pinching onto a piece before ripping it away from the organ and raising it, leaning in closer as it brings the piece to Will’s mouth.  _

_ Lips part as he lets the creature feed him as realisation dawns on him just what happened to Cassie Boyle’s lungs at the same time.  _

_ A truth about the Chesapeake Ripper being revealed to him by a creature that already feasts on his heart. This manifestation of the creature is the Chesapeake Ripper, and the Copycat.  _

_ As the piece of lung slides over his tongue, he chews on it, a wonderful burst of flavours erupting, rosemary and basil that make him moan slightly as the creature preens before him.  _

_ “He’s eating them,” Will admits his realisation before he shakes his head and looks the creature in the eye. “You’re eating them. You’re the Ripper and the Copycat.” _

_ It hums as a smile spreads on its lips, revealing more teeth. “So are you.” The creature replies, leaning in as it kisses him, those long fingers wrapping around Will’s head to pull him closer as he opens wider to accept the long tongue. It twists against his own, even running over the roof of Will’s mouth to taste the organ it had been feeding him only a moment before.  _

_ A moan escapes Will as he moves closer, feeling one hand from the creature slide down his chest, finger sliding down his shirt as the buttons pop off one by one. The creature’s hand moves behind Will again, ripping the shirt away before nails scrape along Will’s back, down his spine before moving to his belly and then cupping his growing erection that bulges through his pants.  _

_ It uses one of its sharp nails to slice through the fabric, ripping the ruined pants away as it presses its body in closer, the creature’s own cock sliding against Will’s before it brings a hand down.  _

_ Fingers close around Will’s shaft, sliding up and down as a thumb runs over the head of his cock and makes Will jump forward, he pants into the creature’s mouth when it breaks the kiss for a moment. _

_ Nails suddenly dig into Will’s side, making him gasp in pain as the creature suddenly lifts him, hoisting him up in the air easily as Will looks on wide-eyed before it suddenly slams him down on the rack of antlers, over Cassie’s corpse.  _

_ It looms in closer, peering down as Will stares at his own chest, the tips of the antlers poking through his naked torso and thighs, blood dripping from the wounds as the antlers hold him in place that don’t allow him to move away.  _

_ There should be fear, Will’s heart should have stopped from the situation, instead, it beats faster as he licks his lips and smiles, watching the hunger in the eyes of the creature above him, how the corners of its lips curve up. Its eyes are narrowed, cock brushing against his own to show how it feels about Will’s new position under him.  _

_ As it leans in closer, Will feels the breath against his skin. There should be severe pain from being impaled, but he feels nothing but pleasure as he watches the creature greedily inhale the scent of his blood as it comes closer.  _

_ Those long fingers run over his bare chest, tongue darting out as it begins to lap up the blood sluggish pumping from the wound on his chest, the antler coming up through the pectoral muscle just above his nipple.  _

_ It doesn’t take long for the tongue to move and find the sensitive nub, licking over the top as Will moans, drawing a sharp breath as he tries to lift hips and ask for more.  _

_ “Patience.” The creature whispers gently as teeth scrape along the nipple now eliciting the most delicious sensation that goes straight to Will’s cock, making him whine.  _

_ It takes its time moving from one nipple to the other, Will panting desperately as his cock rubs against the belly of the creature, receiving no attention that it desperately wants.  _

_ Then the creature moves back slightly, making Will reach out to grab it by the wrist, hard enough to make it hiss slightly as Will tries to pull it forward and not allow the creature to leave him.  _

_ “I want you,” Will whispers, carefully watching the creature’s face, disappointed when it doesn’t react, he pulls on the wrist to drag it closer, earning a snarl and a raised lip to show it’s sharp-pointed teeth.  _

_ “Tell me what you need?” The creature asks as it edges back, not close enough for Will’s liking, but it’s not retreating away.  _

_ “I-” Will feels lost, it’s wrong to want it, but he pushes that aside.  _

_ “Take me, fuck me.” God he wants to feel the creature, it’s been teasing him for so long, always just out of his reach or the fleeting touches, the bite marks that make him hard without the creature hand or cock near him before. It’s there, teasing Will and he wants it, to feel it move inside of him, a desire to be marked by the creature in a new way. _

_ The creature smiles before him, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight before it yanks it’s hand away and kneels down, making Will whine thinking it’s disappeared into the darkness again until he feels those fingers prying his ass open.  _

_ Will is arching on the antlers, unable to move and impaled in place as a hot gust of air blows over his entrance before a flesh tongue laps at it, teasing him open as his cock twitches against his belly, smearing pre-cum on his stomach, a small pool of it gathering in his navel as Will’s body tenses from the feeling of being opened up by the creatures tongue. _

_ When teeth nip at his inner thigh he screams in delight, shaking slightly as he feels a sharpened fingernail against his entrance, tracing the outer skin. Biting his lip, he bares down when it enters him before he moans openly, hands falling to grip onto the impressive rack of antlers. “Don’t stop, oh god!” _

_ Hearing the creature hum in response, Will let his head fall back as he felt the tongue come back and press in further to his entrance. Legs shaking slightly as his cock twitched again, he wanted more, needed more, trying to convey it as he pressed his hips down onto the creature’s mouth. “Please!” _

_ “Be still,”  _

_ Will knew the creature could take him apart, rip him apart with bare fingers like he had done to the lung that Will had offered him. He was only flesh and bone after all, yet as it pressed in further, he moaned loudly as he felt the second knuckle slip inside.  _

_ “So good for me.” The creature purred, teeth scraping along Will’s thigh, the muscle shaking under pointed teeth before the sharpened fangs went deeper. _

_ The trickling of blood on his thighs could be felt, the smooth skin of the creature’s lips pressing against the wounds it created as it let a tongue lap at them gently. As the second finger entered him, Will gritted his teeth and pushed down again.  _

_ As fingers scissored, Will tugged on the antler, lifting his own head to look at the creature, beckoning it forth as he pulled it down towards his lips. Leaning up briefly to kiss it as a third finger entered him, teeth nipping at his top line playfully and drinking down Will’s satisfied noises. _

_ As fingers withdrew, the creature pried Will’s hand from its antlers, standing up straight and at full height over Will’s body as it took it’s cock in hand, a lazy stroke over it as Will looked down, watching fluid drip from the tip of it and coat it in a slick substance.  _

_ His mouth fell open as the creature lined itself up, tip brushing now at Will;’s entrance as he shook slightly, goosebumps on his flesh as sweat stung his skin in the cold of the air. It was inside of Will in one impressive thrust, knocking the air from his lungs as the rack of antlers he was impaled on shook from the force, a broken sound left him as the creature pulled back before thrusting in again and setting a slow pace with deep thrusts.  _

_ Every time it pulled back, the tip was just resting, almost out before it slid back in, but as hands came under Will’s thighs, lifting him and tilting his hips. He moaned and let his body go limp as the creature found the bundle of nerves inside of him that left him shaking from pleasure. Cock bouncing against his stomach as the creature picked up its pace, leering over him with a devilish smile and white eyes that saw through him.  _

_ Letting his body stay relaxed, Will looked up in awe at the creature, panting as he tried to saturate his lungs with oxygen to starve of the building orgasm in his belly. The creature paid Will no heed though, making Will come a moment later, keeping up the pace as it continued to fuck into him without abandon, WIll grunting with the thrusts as he felt his muscles clenching around the cock buried inside of him.  _

_ “Mark me!” Will screamed out, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he let his head tilt back to expose his neck more in offering to the creature. “I’m yours. Take me.” _

_ As the creature leans down, it reveals its teeth again, though the look in its eyes is more affection Will has ever seen anyone give him as it latches onto his neck, near the carotid and sucks into the flesh to leave a mark that Will has requested, teeth nipping against the skin, almost enough to break it and draw blood.  _

_ Will keened as he was marked, just as he had asked. “I belong to the Chesapeake Ripper.” _

_ There was a brutal thrust that made the antlers shake under Will, the creature’s hips resting against his own ass as he felt it come inside of him. Then it was pulling out, slipping free as he felt cum drip from his hole and down his cheeks. But he didn’t care as the creature loomed above him, a hand reaching out to caress his cheek as it looked him in the eye. _

_ “You belong to me,” The creature whispered before leaning down to steal one last kiss, pulling away and slipping into the darkness. _

Sitting up in bed, Will pants as he looks around his lounge room, taking in the dogs curled up in their beds or on the rug, the front door that is shut and the still dark sky outside. It takes him a moment to realise he is panting, heart rate elevated as he looks down and finds himself naked in his bed, t-shirt and boxers discarded haphazardly at the end on the floor.

In the glimmer of the moonlight, he catches a mark on his thigh, rolling over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table as his mouth falls open. 

Long scratches, evidently fingernails are travelling up his leg along his thigh, some on his hips and as he moves his own hand to touch his back he feels a few more. Finally, he brings his hand up to his neck, feeling the dull ache as he presses the pad of his finger and feels the indents of teeth marks. 

“Fuck,” He whispers as he stands from the bed, freezing as he feels fluid drip down his thighs. As he lets a finger run through, he brings it back, looking at the off-white fluid, knowing exactly what it is. 

Shaking his head, he meanders off to the shower, staying awake till the morning with a cup of coffee as he reflects on the dream. The truth he’s having trouble admitting to himself, finally, when it’s just after eight, he calls Jack to set up a meeting. 

After he hangs up, he looks at his contacts, looking at Hannibal’s name as he considers calling him. In the end, he doesn’t. He sends him a text and asks if he can make an impromptu appointment at seven.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one day I may actually learn to write properly. What started out as a porn idea is developing terrible plot, so forgive me

“He’s eating them”

Standing before Jack, Will shifts uncomfortably as he is stared down. Jack is watching him, silently as Will takes the cue to continue with what knowledge he has discovered.

“The Chesapeake Ripper isn’t collecting trophies, the organs he takes, intestines, heart, liver, kidneys, there all organs that can be used in cooking. He’s not doubling up on his trophies, he’s consuming them, the ultimate humiliation of his victims.”

“The Ripper is a cannibal, just like Garret Jacob Hobbs?” Jack asks, disbelieving but staring at Will, trying to ascertain how Will made the connection. Leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his desk, hands steepled as he points them at Will. “Is that why he is only taking organs?”

“He’s a surgeon, he knows about chemical residue on the meat if he injected them with drugs. Though the nature in how he removes organs pleases his sadistic streak. Draws it out of his pigs that he takes for slaughter.” Will shrugs, it makes perfect sense to him, why can’t Jack believe him. That’s his job, to look, to find the evidence that no one else does. “Organs probably taste better than the muscle, most of his victims tend to be lean, not exactly fattened up well.”

“These are people, Will. Not animals.” Jack says, making Will flinch.

“Not in the eyes of the Ripper.” It’s the first time he has actually seen through the Ripper’s eyes now, he hasn’t been able to switch it off most of the morning when he has been dealing with students and other teachers. 

There are lines on their skin, cuts that would be perfect and a dish that could be associated with it, then he pictures the creature from his dreams, blood dripping from its chin as it feasts on the organs raw. The Ripper surely cooks them, his scenes are methodical, almost ritualistic. 

“His victims are nothing more than free-range produce.” For a moment Will wonders what it would be like to eat a piece of heart if it would taste like his dream, seasoned with herbs and a rich metallic taste underlying it.

That makes Jack cringe, only for a fraction of a second, but Will catches it, giving a shrug. “You asked me to look, to get close.”

“Don’t mention that to Alana.” Jack leans back into his chair, contemplating. 

“The other thing I should mention though is our Copycat,” Will says, watching Jack look up a again. “Might actually be the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Will-”

“No, lungs being taken, the mutilation was done while she was alive the ostentatious display.” Will starts, listing the reasons why they correlate in some way. 

“There are similarities, but why hasn’t he killed that way again? Why let his work go undiscovered. It’s not like the Ripper to hide what he does.” Jack reasons. “There was only one kill, not three as he usually leaves.”

“Yeah,” Will brings a hand up as he rubs at his temples, feeling a headache forming as he tries to think. “It was just… Odd.”

“Practically gift wrapped is what you said at the scene… Field kabuki.”

“It was, that scene was everything Garret Jacob Hobbs wasn’t,” Will admits, looking at the wall in the distance, he thinks back on that scene now, feeling a heat pool in his stomach as he swallows. 

His mouth is dry, because part of him feels that scene was for him alone, to help him see Hobb’s. Along with his dream the night before, it’s haunting him now. He can almost feel the creature breathing near him, smell the bloody breath that had left its mouth.

Hearing Jack’s chair creak, he chances a glance back, seeing him looking down at one of the desk draws, Will knows that’s likely where the photos of the Ripper cases are. “There aren’t enough elements that line up, the profile you helped create on the Ripper doesn’t exactly line up with the Copycat.”

“It’s a theory, I don’t have any more to offer you, if I did, there would be evidence, but there isn’t.” Giving a shrug, Will dismisses himself, partially knowing Jack doesn’t believe him. 

It stings as he walks down the hall and back to the lecture hall for the last one of the day, he shakes out two aspirin and dry swallows them, welcoming the acidic taste on his tongue as he grimaces.

-

The classes weren't as bad as he was expecting, the students seemed more interested in leaving than asking questions about the lecture, which enables him to leave earlier than he anticipated. The headache though proceeds to get worse, and by the time he gets home to let the dogs out he’s taking his glasses off to rub at his eyes. 

Heading to the kitchen, he pours a glass of water, swallowing it down and putting the glass in the sink when his body tenses. There is a noise from behind him, slow breathing that has a heaviness to it that he knows well, and when he turns around, his kitchen vanishes.

_ Standing at the edge of a forest, he peers into the trees, the darkness that lays beyond them, hearing the breathing of the creature. Tentatively, he takes a step forward, hearing a twig snap in the distance, then another.  _

_ “I know you’re here,” Will calls out, his breath mists in front of him suddenly, a chill in the air as he wanders into the forest, his footsteps are not silent due to the vegetation under his feet, leaves crumpling and branches crunching as he moves further into the darkness. He can hear the creature, the Ripper ahead of him, but it is backing away, leaving him. _

_ “I’m not afraid!” He yells, because he still remembers the words “you fear your own darkness”, there is still a side to him that does, but what he fears more now is being alone in it, without the Ripper by his side. _

_ As his surroundings darken more, he stops suddenly, trying to hear for the Ripper’s breathing, looking around wildly as he sees nothing but trees and a midnight sky about him dotted with small pinprick stars.  _

_ His own chest is heaving, feeling alone in the world as he thinks on what to do to call the Ripper back to him, to have him by his side again. Searching desperately, he can’t make out anything, no teeth, no eyes, no breathing. Part of him doesn’t understand how the Ripper could leave him, he remembers the creature’s form leaning into him, tasting blood and feeling it’s flesh swell under his hand because Will had sustained it, fed it.  _

_ Looking around the environment wildly, he finds a knife stuck into a tree, partly wonders if it’s a test that the Ripper is indulging in to see if he is committed.  _

_ Will doesn’t think twice as he grabs the blade, holding it in his right hand as he brings it to his left upper arm. The slice through his flesh is quick, pain blooms from the wound as blood races down his arm and becomes soaked into his shirt.  _

_ Eyes darts around wildly trying to find the creature, begging for it to come back to him, but there is nothing, only the pain from the cut he has inflicted himself in a hope to call a beast back to him because- _

_ “Will?” _

The sound of his name makes Will turn, shielding his eyes as light assaults him before lowering his right arm, a blood knife held in his hand as Hannibal’s eyes narrow slightly. 

A hiss escapes him as he feels pain resonate in his left arm, looking over to see the cut, then down to the floor as he notices the rug, the chairs against the wall and the paintings. 

“I-” Will starts, unsure how he came to be in Hannibal’s waiting room, waking from a dissociative state for the second time. “What’s the time?”

“It’s 6:54pm you’re in Baltimore-”

“I know, I… I don’t remember driving.” He remembers chasing the Ripper, feels his heart still clenching at the thought of being alone in the darkness. Looking down at the bloody knife, he realises it is one from his own kitchen, the blood on the blade has dried, turning dark from the oxidation. 

“Come in,” Hannibal says politely, stepping back as he holds the door open for Will, eyes on his arm where the cut is and not the knife in his hands.

Tentatively, Will does, stepping into the spacious office before stopping in the middle, unsure of what to do. Hannibal walks straight past him, heading to a cupboard against the wall, pulling out a black leather bag, fiddling with the contents within while he speaks. “I’m curious to know what you were thinking, or perhaps seeing?”

Will decides to move over to the small coffee table next to the chair that he normally sits in, placing the knife down upon it as he stares at the cold steel grey of it that mixes with the red. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Dissociative states are escapes from reality for the mind.” Hannibal states before coming back. “May I?” Eyes fall to the bloody wound on Will’s arm.

“It’s either this or a trip to the emergency room, and I don’t feel like explaining how it happened or creating a story.” Will breathes out, taking a seat.

There is a quirk to one side of Hannibal’s lip before he steps up closer and kneels to lift the cut sleeve to look at the wound. “Luckily, it is not too deep, though the way it is gaping wound, it will require stitches.”

Giving a nod, he watches Hannibal place the black leather bag down to the side, see’s the small vials within and wonders how often Hannibal has had to pull it out for patients. “Lucky you’re a former surgeon,” Will says, trying to lighten the mood.

“It is indeed fortunate for you.” Hannibal smiles lightly. “I’m surprised your knife was sharp enough to cut deep enough through the skin, do you remember anything before or the reason you may have cut yourself?”

There is a desire to tell Hannibal about his hallucination, that he was chasing a creature that lurks within his dreams. Instead, he gives a shrug and immediately regrets the decision as he winces from the pain in his arm. 

“Unfortunately, it is going to sting for the local anaesthetic,” Hannibal says as he takes out a syringe, uncapping the needle as he pulls out a vial, sliding it in to withdraw the contents before flicking with the back of his finger a few times to dispel the bubbles and push out the air. 

“Pain can be a good grounding mechanism.” Will eyes the needle, trying to relax his body despite knowing it’s going to sting. “Or so I’ve heard.”

There’s a glance from Hannibal, a calculating look in his eyes for a brief moment that makes Will’s throat go dry and look away. “I don’t remember cutting myself, I’m not sure I was thinking when it happened.” He says because he doesn’t need Hannibal to think he did this to ground himself. His motivations were entirely different. 

Turning his head, he watches Hannibal pull on a set of blue nitrile gloves before coming closer to his arm and picking up the syringe again. “Quite some kit you have.”

“I find it is always best to be prepared, you never know what to expect.”

Will smiles sadly thinking of Tobias Budge and how he had broken into Hannibal’s office, killing his patient and trying to do the same to Hannibal. It jogs his memory, Hannibal telling him after he had arrived on the scene that he thought Will had died by Tobias hand. He had looked at him differently in that moment, and Will had felt drawn to him. So much as to take gauze from the paramedics and help deal with the cut upon Hannibal’s head, cleaning the blood from his face with it gently.

Feeling the gloved hand against the edge of the wound, Will sucks in a breath as he feels the sting of the needle, turning to look down and see the needle near the edge of the wound and Hannibal’s focused expression as he works. 

It’s a sizable wound, a few centimeters across and cut entirely through the layer of skin. Instead of looking at it, he watches Hannibal work. Similar to when he had seen him in the back of the ambulance. It’s easy to get lost in his focus and eventually the pain dulls. 

Watching the curved suture needle being threaded, Will licks his lips. “Thank you.”

Hannibal pauses for a moment, catching Will’s eyes before they turn away, looking anywhere else in the room. “You said you weren’t sure what you were thinking when this happened… What did you hallucinate?”

There is a hiss as he feels the needle thread through his skin, but it’s not painful, more pressure. It’s Hannibal’s question that makes him pale slightly, knowing he had seen through his lie, he couldn’t hide it from the doctor. “I think I need a brain scan.”

“Between losing time, the hallucinations, now this,” Will looks down to his arm, seeing Hannibal tying the knot in the stitch and then cuts the thread. “I feel like I’m standing alone in the darkness of my mind.”

Something crosses Hannibal’s face briefly, before it tucked under that clinical expression again as he starts the next stitch and moves with practised ease. “You’re not alone in that darkness.” The stitch is tied off, scissors bought up to clip the thread before Hannibal takes a moment to look at Will. “I’m standing right beside you.”

The silence after is easier, Will feels a weight lifted from his shoulder as Hannibal finishes the last stitch, a total of thirteen across the wound. 

“Lucky number.” Will gives a small frown, then looks over and smiles weakly as Hannibal packs away everything. 

“In China, thirteen is considered to be a sign of good luck as the pronunciation for ‘assured growth’ and ‘definitely vibrant’ are similar.” 

Standing from his seat, Will shifts his arms, grateful for the numbness and that he doesn’t have to explain the wound to anyone. He can hide it under his shirts, though it may scar. The thought of it is not as unappealing as it should be. “Do you know any good neurologists?”

“Yes, I should be able to schedule an appointment rather quickly. I have a friend who owes me a favour.” Hannibal smiles as he sets the bag away, heading over to pour two glasses of wine, bringing one over for Will.

“Thanks.” Will quietly supplies, taking the glass as he lets fingers brush over Hannibal’s. The touch is pleasant, something he wishes he had more of instead of his imagination and whoever keeps coming to his home. It’s a relief to have Hannibal beside him, no judgement despite all the marks he has been seeing appear on his skin. He has never questioned or pushed, until now about what has happened, even then it wasn’t a total invasion. More concern.

As Will sets the empty wine glass down, he looks back down to the bloodied knife. “I should go home.” Still, his mind is thinking anything but that, he doesn’t wish to return back to his house, the solitude he has afforded himself that now makes him ache with loneliness. He wonders if he stood out the front of his house during the hallucination, looking out into the vast open field as he called for a creature, the ripper and offered his own blood as a sacrifice. 

“If you’re amenable to the suggestion, you are welcome to spend the night in my guest room,” Hannibal says, bringing Will back to awareness. 

Hannibal tilts his head as he looks at Will, before reaching out to take the glass, and then picks up the bloodied knife. Taking them away as Will stands there feeling unmoored. 

When Hannibal returns, however, it is with a glass of water, a few tablets on the palm of his hand. “Something for the pain.”

As a cool hand is pressed against Will’s forehead, he leans into it, closing his eyes for a moment. “You’re running a fever.” Hannibal murmurs softly before stroking curls back from Will’s face, the touch affectionate as he looks down into blue eyes. 

“I’ve been running around in the cold thanks to my sleepwalking, not surprised if I picked up a cold.” Will mumbles as he takes the glass and the offered tablets, swallowing them in one gulp.

Handing back the glass to Hannibal, Will stands, following him out of the office and agreeing to leave his at the office. He can already start to feel the drugs kick in when they arrive at Hannibal’s home, eyes drooping slightly as he follows the man through to the door. 

“At least allow me to make something light for your stomach, all the better to help you sleep.” Hannibal says, moving through to the kitchen with Will following like a lost puppy in the process.

Taking the seat in the corner, Will watches Hannibal head to the fridge, pulling out an assortment of vegetables and kidneys. “Rognon de veau au Poivre de Madagascar.”

“I assume it has nothing to do with Madagascar with the French pronunciation.” Will smiles, watching Hannibal gracefully move around the kitchen to collect what he needs, laying the chopping board down before him as he looks up at Will and smirks. 

“Madagascar black pepper is known for its spicy taste with fruity notes, perfect company for the kidney.” 

Will watches as Hannibal picks up one of the bigger chefs knives, holding up the string of pepper to show it off before laying it down on the chopping board. He can hear the crunch as Hannibal lays the flat of the blade over the pepper, leaning down, then that spicy scent reaches his nose, he closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply, opening his eyes slowly to find Hannibal watching him. 

“The pepper also happens to be naturally enriched with vitamin C, a natural immunity booster and antibiotic.”

“Sounds exactly like what I need about now.” Will says, standing from his seat to come over, watching Hannibal work. He’s quick with the knife, chopping and combining what he needs, and Will notices the kidney already cooked, then watches Hannibal putting it together in the pan as he makes a sauce. 

It’s a wonderful show, it doesn’t take long for everything to be done and two plates to be balanced in Hannibal’s hands as he takes them to the dining room, pulling out the chair for Will in the process.

Will watches him set the plates down carefully, not allowing the sliced kidney to shift and the sauce keeping the chopped parsley on top to give it a fresh appearance.

There is a smile on Hannibal’s lips as he takes his own seat opposite Will. “A dish that was shown to me as a young man when I travelled to France, the butcher would remove the kidneys and cook them immediately to seal in the flavour and the freshness. Allowing them to be frozen will cause the organ to deteriorate quickly, creating a bitter taste to the meat.” He waits, watching Will take his fork and spearing the first piece upon it as he brings it to his lips.

“Does it hold even after you have cooked them?” Will asks, curious as he takes the first bite.

“I’ll let your taste buds decide.” Hannibal replies, eyes lowering slightly as he watches Will eat it. 

The flavour of the pepper is the first thing he notices, then the creamy sauce and the meat of the kidney, it actually combines well and Will swallows before taking another bite, realising he is slightly famished having not had dinner. “It’s good.” He compliments, giving an appreciative hum.

It doesn’t take long for the plate to be cleaned, and Hannibal looks at him fondly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I think you need to teach me how to cook.” Will laughs instead, standing to help clear his plate away. 

“Something that can be easily rectified, I find the best ingredients are the freshest ones.” Hannibal responds leading him back through to the kitchen.

Carefully he sets the plate into the sink, pausing when Hannibal stands next to him, taking it from his hand as they touch again, Will finds himself swallowing as he looks up, catching that fond look still in Hannibal’s eyes. 

“I find myself not wanting to go home.” He admits, focusing on Hannibal’s lips, watching how they quirk up at his words before he speaks. 

“I’ve always found you delightful company, Will. Even when you don’t believe yourself to be.”

“Even after tonight.” Will looks up, almost hopeful, despite everything Hannibal isn’t pushing him away, he seems warm and welcome. Slowly he moves forward, smiling a little to himself when Hannibal doesn’t pull away, but comes closer, lips meeting in a fleeting kiss.

Only it doesn’t stay fleeting, hands move to grab onto the lapels of Hanniba’s jacket, pulling him in closer, opening his mouth and feeling a hum against his tongue as he dives in deeper. He’s desperate for contact, to feel someone, to remember what happens, and he knows he will remember this. 

“You taste so good,” Will murmurs, breaking for air, panting slightly as Hannibal rests his forehead against his, breathing Will in deeply. 

“As do you.” Hannibal leans forward again, stealing a kiss as a hand moves down Will’s side, resting on Will’s hip before reaching and grabbing his ass, bringing him in closer. 

“Yes,” Will breathes out, opening wider to accept Hannibal’s tongue. “Bite me, mark me. Make me yours.” He’s hungry for something else, letting a hand come down to rub Hannibal through his pants.

Will’s breathing heavy. They both are, but he doesn’t fight when Hannibal picks him up and sits him on the counter, undoing his shirt buttons in a flurry as Will lets his hands move up, combing through Hannibal’s hair as Hannibal opens his pants and takes hold of his cock. 

The wet heat of Hannibal’s mouth is on it in a flash, drinking it down as Will lets his eyes flutter, hand gripping harder in Hannibal’s hair and he feels the brush of teeth that make his hips jerk and a muffled small choke come from Hannibal. 

It feels amazing to finally be able to hold someone, to know who it is who is touching him, someone that he wants to touch him. “Oh god yes.” Will breathes out, feeling himself filling out in Hannibal’s mouth. 

Nails bite into Hannibal’s scalp, the urge to push him down to the hilt, but Hannibal does it on his own. Will almost comes when he feels the tip hit the back of Hannibal’s throat, moaning deeply as he tries to pull away. “Gonna, fuck I’m going to come!” He pants out, trying to pull Hannibal away. 

The doctor tilts his head though, eyes alight with passion and desire, slightly red and flushed in the cheeks before he pulls back, breathless. “Come for me Will,” He asks, ever so polite as Will watches him go back down. “Let me taste you.” 

It’s only a shameful minute before he feels his own release, head tilting back as he moans and feels Hannibal’s throat working around his length as his legs twitch in time with his heart as his cock leaks the last few drops. 

A whine leaves his lips as he feels Hannibal’s tongue on the tip, licking the last few stray drops and savouring them before he is back, kissing Will’s jawline, then ravishing his neck. 

Best of all is when teeth find the old mark, biting down anew, the pain that blossoms makes Will go weak, melting into Hannibal’s touch as he breathes out and holds on tightly. 

“Yes… Yes, please, Hannibal.” He moans, rocking back and forth lightly into the teeth on his neck, wishing for blood. He pauses though when he shifts his arm, hissing in pain from the stitched wound, making Hannibal stop, a look of concern crossing his features before delight comes back. 

“Perhaps we should retire to the bedroom.” He says, way too serious for what they're likely about to do. 

“This is not what I expected.” Will breathes out, relaxing as Hannibal stands. 

“Do you regret your actions?”

Will looks up then, eyes meeting maroon as he shakes his head gently. “No, I’ve… I’ve wanted to touch you for a long time.” It’s what’s currently happening that seems to have given him courage, or perhaps desperation to actually act on his desires. He’s just glad it’s reciprocated. There was no stopping, no mention of instability, he feels… whole. 

“Come, you should be resting.” Hannibal smirks. 

“Yeah well.” Will replies, hopping down from the bench and doing up his pants. “I’m not opposed to more.” He smirks back, letting Hannibal lead him up to his bedroom, the dishes left forgotten in the sink, and Will wonders if Hannibal actually normally does that or if he is the reason. 


End file.
